A Fall of Rain
by SabaceanBabe
Summary: Caitlin watched the rain fall. Thousands of drops, millions, an endless army of drops of water, crystal clear individually, but solid and opaque as they fell.


Title: **A Fall of Rain**  
Author: SabaceanBabe  
Rating: PG-13  
Word count: 884  
Genre: one shot  
Characters: Caitlin and Angela  
Spoilers: through _The Line_

--

Caitlin watched the rain fall. Thousands of drops, millions, an endless army of drops of water, crystal clear individually, but solid and opaque as they fell. The sound as they hit the metal roof of the makeshift shelter in which she stood was like a barrage of gunfire, something she'd never thought she'd know first-hand.

Her gaze drifted to the place where the body had fallen, but there was no longer any sign that a human being had bled to death on the tarmac, riddled with bullets for the sin of being born somewhere else and not wanting to be forcibly sent back to wherever that birthplace was. Oh, the soldiers had warned him not to do it, not to approach the fence that separated the group of deportees from those who were under quarantine in the warehouse, the ones who belonged here. He'd done it anyway, foolish boy. He couldn't have been more than seventeen.

"Sweet Jesus, what's happening?" she whispered. It had been hours since the rain had begun to fall, since they'd taken her away from Peter. And no one would answer her questions, not the soldiers, not the others who surrounded her now, awaiting deportation. It was all like something from a Hollywood film. Caitlin shivered.

Across the expanse of rain-slick pavement, a woman caught her attention, held it. Dark-haired, dark-clad, and darkly elegant. Even from this distance, Caitlin recognized the woman who had pulled Peter aside, who had spoken to him, who had been with him when the soldiers had dragged Caitlin herself away. Without a thought, Caitlin stepped out from under the meager shelter of the metal roof into the pummeling rain.

A man shouted at her to stop, just as he had when the boy had done the same thing, but Caitlin ignored it. She didn't care. They could feckin' shoot her, if they'd like, that would be better than being sent back to Ireland in this Godforsaken world Peter had brought them to.

There was another shout and the elegant woman turned toward the sound, toward Caitlin. A shot was fired, but there was only the one, not the barrage of earlier, and it could just as easily have been a sharp crack of thunder. If it were gunfire, then wouldn't there have been more? Wouldn't Caitlin have felt the punch of the bullets as they entered her body? But the dark woman raised her hand, staring straight at Caitlin, and no more shots and no more thunder sounded. Sure and perhaps the woman could command the thunder as Peter could command the lightning.

The dark woman said something over her shoulder that Caitlin couldn't hear over the cacophony of the water in her ears. A man in a long raincoat came through a gate in the fence, came toward Caitlin at a run, ducking as though he could avoid the torrents that had long since soaked her to the skin.

"Come with me!" he shouted as he drew closer. "Mrs. Petrelli wants to talk to you!"

Petrelli. Mrs. Petrelli. Caitlin stopped, futilely blinked water from her eyes. "Peter," she said.

--

The man took her to a room in the back of the warehouse, past the bodies of both the living and the dead. She left a watery trail behind her as she walked warily across the cement floor. The man, who had the air of a policeman about him, tried to take her by the arm, tried to hurry her; Caitlin glared at him and he backed off a bit. She'd go with him for what choice did she have? But damned if she'd it under anyone's power but her own. Not this time.

He opened a battered metal door and ushered her through, closing it behind her. He didn't come in with her.

The dark woman had her back to Caitlin; she stared out a grimy window.

"You're Mrs. Petrelli, then?" Caitlin asked. Water still streamed from her hair, tickled at her skin.

Shoulders straightened beneath the fine fabric of her suit and the woman – Mrs. Petrelli – turned. She looked at Caitlin, dark eyes missing nothing. "What do you know of my son?" she asked.

Caitlin blinked. "You're Peter's mother." Yes. She could see it in the woman's eyes, the shape of her mouth.

"What do you know of Peter?" his mother repeated.

"I know that he's a good man." _Ah, Peter, please don't leave me here,_ she didn't say aloud.

Mrs. Petrelli sighed. Of a sudden, she looked tired, not quite as elegant as a moment before. Her eyes met Caitlin's. "Do you know where he is? Where he's gone?"

Eyes widening in surprise, Caitlin laughed. It was a bitter sound, even to her own ears. "I don't at that."

"Well, that's unfortunate. We need him."

She laughed again. "Do you, now?"

"Peter may be the only one who can save us."

Caitlin didn't think she was supposed to have heard that, the words were said so softly. Oddly enough, this small display of vulnerability reassured her. Feeling a bit more confident, she said, "Mrs. Petrelli, I don't know where your son is, but I know where he may have gone." One finely shaped brow arched and Caitlin continued. "If you were to help me, I might be able to help you…"


End file.
